


Three Things

by orphan_account



Series: Bad Things Happen Bingo [3]
Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gods & Goddesses, Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bad Things Happen Bingo, Blood and Injury, Deceit Sanders is a God, Gods, Gun Violence, Gunshot Wounds, M/M, Morally Neutral Deceit Sanders, Sympathetic Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders, Sympathetic Deceit Sanders, deceit tells the truth but only bc he's hurt, like actually taking the roman god connection seriously
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-27
Updated: 2020-05-27
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:35:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,445
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24405907
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: There are three facts that Roman knows, for sure, about his boyfriend.This is one Janus didn't want him to find out about.
Relationships: Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders/Deceit | Janus Sanders
Series: Bad Things Happen Bingo [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1761118
Comments: 4
Kudos: 91





	Three Things

Roman knows three facts, for sure, about his boyfriend.

Fact one: his boyfriend lies. A lot. He knows this from back when they were kids, when they were just friends and he had to cycle through the other’s many names and guess at where he lived because his boyfriend changed them so often, sometimes in the same conversation. He knows this because of the amount of times Janus (he still isn’t sure that Janus is his actual name, or if it’ll change sometime in the future, but he’s decided to stop caring about that) pulled him into an abandoned building or a closed shop to loot the place clean, or at times dragged him away from his folks under the pretense of “schoolwork” which usually translated to “blowing shit up in the woods.”

And yes, this means that his boyfriend doesn’t tell him the truth most of the time, that he keeps secrets that drive Roman absolutely mad more often than not, and were the source of half of their arguments—but Janus’ lies were never anything that would hurt him, were only meant to keep him safe, so sometimes Roman would go along with his boyfriend’s excuses just to keep himself sane.

Fact two: his boyfriend can handle himself. This he also knows from when they were kids, though it’s only been reaffirmed now that they’re older, with their own separate jobs. Janus may be small, not even over five-feet in height, but there’s been countless times where he’d landed someone on their ass for saying or doing something that pissed him off just right to act on his anger. Though he’d never admit it, Janus had a righteous fury about him; a call for justice that contradicted his usual troublemaking schemes. And Roman couldn’t fault him for throwing punches when the people he’d been arguing with for the past three hours were insistent that most of the earth’s population needed to suffer or die, depending on the circumstances.

It should also be mentioned that Roman sometimes got involved in those fights, but Janus would usually pull him away at that point and scold him for getting himself in harm’s way. Hypocritical, but Roman didn’t want to argue; Janus just handled people better than he did, and he trusts Janus’ judgment.

Fact three: his boyfriend’s blood is the color of gold.

This is a fact he’s learning right now.

“What the _fuck_ , Jan?”

Janus stumbles into the bathroom, mouth pressed into a firm line and his eyes sharp, pupils almost resembling slits, the man pointedly ignoring the question as he leans against the wall. He fumbles with the towel rack, blood covering his clothes and a hand pressed against his wounded shoulder, fingers shaking as he works.

“Is that a gun shot? Did someone _shoot_ you?” Roman follows after him, like he always does, the tremor in his voice being the only indication of his worry as he tries to wrap his head around the fact that his boyfriend is literally bleeding gold. “The hell happened?”

Again, Janus shoots him a look, not answering. He grabs one of the towels and pulls, sending the rest tumbling to the floor as he presses it against his shoulder, trying to cover up his wince with a sigh.

Roman hovers, shaking and fidgeting with his hands, before he turns, heading for the kitchen, “I’m calling the cops—”

“ ** _No_** ,” Janus grounds out through his teeth, and something about the way he says it makes Roman stop, as much as he doesn’t want to. When he looks back at him, he notices how his boyfriend’s face softens, the man looking down at the floor with more humiliation than Roman’s ever seen in his life. “Just—don’t.”

“I can’t just let you bleed out on the floor. I’m not—I’m not a _doctor_ , I don’t know what to do.”

“I can handle this—it’s happened before.”

Roman glares at that, “This has happened _before_?”

Another wince. Leaning his head against the wall, Adam’s apple visibly bobbing with the effort to swallow and eyes shining with unshed tears, Janus replies, his voice hoarse. “More often than not. I try not to come home until it’s healed.”

“You haven’t been away from home more than a few days,” Roman retorts. “It—it takes weeks for this kind of injury to heal—”

“I would also like to point out that most people don’t bleed ichor,” Janus interrupts him. “Or do you know anyone else who’s blood can run for thousands of dollars?”

His breath catches in his throat. “…I’ve known you for years.”

Janus looks at him like he’s stupid, “Yes. You have.”

“I would have noticed something like this sooner.”

“Not if I had glamor on, you wouldn’t.”

Roman shakes his head. Laughs, because he doesn’t know what else to do, let alone what to say, what to think. He throws his arms up in the air, “I can’t believe this. Either I’m crazy, or my boyfriend’s a monster.”

“…God.”

Roman whips around at that, eyes wide. “ _What_?”

“I’m—”

“I heard what you said—you’re telling me that you’re a _god_? I’m _dating_ a god?”

Janus’ eyes shine with a golden glow, the man—or, god, as Roman is now learning—giving him a ridiculously sheepish smile, as though he were just caught for petty theft and not for being an actual, literal part of the divine. “God of doorways—or what’s left of him, anyway.” The last part he mutters mostly to himself than to Roman, “Things have been rough during the past few centuries.”

Roman stares at him. “We grew up together.”

“I can be whatever age I please—and there’s a reason why I changed my stories so often.”

“But—how did I not _know_?”

“Simple,” Janus shrugs with his good shoulder, peeling away the towel from his wound to check on it. He throws it aside when he realizes the bleeding has stopped. “I didn’t _want_ you to know.”

Roman considers this. Sitting down next to his boyfriend, he takes the other’s hand, giving it a small squeeze. “Why are you telling me now?”

“No avoiding it,” Janus responds, easily, and when he shifts Roman notices how the light reflects off the one side of his face almost like a mirror, the man recoiling when he realizes the other has scales. “…I apologize that you had to find out like this. I would have preferred you didn’t find out at all.”

“I would prefer that you not hide things from me,” Roman replies dryly. “We don’t always get what we want, Jan.” He pauses, feeling his heart seize in his chest. “…What happens now that I know?”

Janus thinks this over. “Nothing, if you so choose,” he says. “I don’t see why we’d have to change anything now that you know. I am perfectly fine with the way things are between us.”

“But you’re a god. Doesn’t that—I mean, I’m not—I’m just a human, don’t you deserve more—”

“If you start leaving me offerings and worshipping me, I will maim you,” Janus snaps, Roman closing his mouth at the sharp tone. Janus notices the look on his face and pauses, leaning away with a twisted, almost pained, look on his face. “…It’s hard enough with everything being so different compared to the past. Not that I _prefer_ the past; there was good and bad to that time, too, but at least I knew what to expect. The only thing that has gotten easier is being able to blend in with humans without being put on a pedestal…and being able to have people around and _love them_ without there being such an imbalance.”

Slowly, realization dawns on him, Roman’s shoulders slouching at the other’s words. “…You…want to be equals with humans?”

“I suppose,” the other mutters. “I don’t know what that would entail, and I don’t mind the status I have—but it would be different. Another beginning, if you will.” ,

Roman hums, glancing at the gold-tinted blood covering the floor. He wrinkles his nose, “In that case, does that mean you’re going to clean this up?”

Janus covers his mouth with his hand to hide his smile, “Demoting me to servitude already, are you, my prince?”

Roman scoffs, “More like I just don’t want to find out what it’s like to touch a god’s blood.”

“It would probably kill you.”

“So, you’ll clean it up?”

“Of course, dear.”

They fall silent, but only for a moment, Roman turning to Janus with another question.

“How’d you get shot, anyway?”

“I got into an argument with Port.”

“…And Port is…?”

“One thing at a time, Roman.”

**Author's Note:**

> A side note: the person Janus mentions at the very end ("Port") is a reference to Portunus, a Roman god who had many similarities to Janus. He was basically a gatekeeper of sorts. 
> 
> Also if you thought I wasn't going to jump on the fact that Janus is named after a literal god, ding-dong you are wrong, I love the idea of him having actual god-like powers or just straight up being connected to the god himself. (No disrespect to the actual god, obviously; this is all in good fun!)


End file.
